


Things Seen and Unseen

by TheScholarlyStrumpet (equipoise)



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, whouffaldi, whouffaldi smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-05
Updated: 2016-03-05
Packaged: 2018-05-24 22:15:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6168715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/equipoise/pseuds/TheScholarlyStrumpet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor thought he'd fixed the sonic sunglasses after they got scrambled, but the fix seems to have an unintended side effect...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Things Seen and Unseen

The sunglasses had broken. Again. While wearable tech certainly had its appeal, these were proving to have their own unique challenges. This time, he’d happened to walk through a polarity sequencing gateway that he hadn’t realized was still on. The sonic glasses had been totally scrambled for days. He couldn’t just order new ones, as these had been made to very strict specifications. So, he worked on fixing them. It took far longer than he’d have liked. Although he pretended only a day had passed when he picked up Clara, again. What she didn’t know could only make him look cleverer.

“All better?” she asked, distractedly flipping through a book on the moons of Vizinia 6.

“Good as new. Ready for an adventure?” He slipped on the sunglasses and turned to face her. Then nearly choked on his own tongue.

Clara was standing in the console room stark naked and completely nonchalant. She looked up from the book and pursed her lips. “What’s wrong?”

Not wanting to be insulting, he cleared his throat. “Nothing. No. Erm. Everything is… exactly where it should be. I assume.” He had seen plenty of people naked in his extended lifetime, for all sorts of purposes. Bodies were just bodies, at the end of the day. But this was Clara’s body. So that made a difference. He felt his stomach muscles contract, both hearts beating a little too fast.

She made a curious face and tilted her head to the side, “Okay… are you certain? You’re looking at me like I’ve grown a second head or a tail or something….I haven’t have I?” She swiveled her head and her hips simultaneously, to examine her behind. This movement provided him with a slightly different view of her lithe form, and not one he was averse to.

Her hips were slim, two shapely legs ending at a pert bottom that had perhaps caught his eye more than once while she was in trousers. For all his protestation, he wasn’t totally ignorant of the fact that his current companion was – from what he knew of humanity – an attractive member of her species. Of course, Time Lords were above such petty concerns as sex or physical attraction. Except when they weren’t. And those inflating eyes of hers had been the death of him from the very start. In his previous body, he’d found her delightful to look upon, like a work of art.

This incarnation of him was less aware of aesthetics, but no less enamored of the essence that was simply Clara. She could have been housed in any body and he’d have found her irresistible.

It was as he was musing on this that he remembered she had not entered the Tardis naked. Nor had she had the time to shed her clothes. Thinking of Occam’s Razor, he slipped off the sunglasses. A now fully clothed Clara stood before him looking puzzled.

Well, that was an unintended side effect.

He scowled down at the sunglasses in his hand. “Actually, I think I still have some work to do. Could we pick this back up, later?”

Clara’s mouth and shoulders drooped at the same time and he felt a twinge of something unpleasant for having caused her disappointment.

“We don’t have to go off on some grand adventure, looking for trouble… I’ve just been itching to get out of London. What if we just went somewhere else on Earth? No sonic needed.” She asked in a beseeching tone.

“No good. Wherever we go, trouble will find us. Or, more accurately, you’ll find _it_ ,” he pointed his index finger at her, allowing himself a small, teasing grin.

Clara rolled her eyes at him but he could tell she was biting back a smile. “It’s what we do,” she pointed out, swaying closer. “Saving planets. Saving the day. Just try and tell me you don’t love it every bit as much as I do,” she challenged, looking up to meet his eye, her hand covering his where it rested on the rail.

He swallowed, the image of her, disrobed, still fresh on his mind. He purposely averted his eyes from the swell of her breasts beneath the fitted blouse she wore today. If he was honest with himself, he had wondered more than once as to the size and shape of her nipples. How they might feel on his tongue, how her skin might taste. Having had just this stolen glimpse, he felt deeply ashamed of how badly he wanted to see them again. He backed gracefully away from her and rounded to the other side of the console.

“Fine, one trip. Something short and you don’t go gallivanting off without me, yeah?”

Clara pulled a face but then she grinned at him. “How about Paris?”

***

Of course there had been trouble. And of course it had found them. The Doctor swore inwardly as he pushed the sunglasses up his nose. He needed to be able to check for any other hidden pockets of nanotech. This wasn’t the kind meant to repair. Someone had reprogramed it to destroy, instead of heal. Reprehensible.

So, there he was, running for his life, hand in hand with a companion he now saw without a stitch of clothing. Oh, and she just had to have bits that bounced in an appallingly appealing manner, didn’t she?

They did manage to find the control center before the guards reached them. The guards were also nude to his bespectacled eyes but there was nothing even mildly interesting in the bits of them that wobbled and dangled. He soniced them through the door of the space shuttle and deprogramed the nanotech as fast as he could. All the while, he was increasingly conscious of how close Clara tended to stand. How certain parts of her would brush his arm, or even press against him when she leaned past. Knowing the clothing was physically there did nothing to provide relief.

It was agony and he desperately wished he wasn’t enjoying it so very much.

After they had saved the day, as usual, he ripped off the sunglasses and stuffed them deeply into his coat pocket. Thanks to his superior anatomical control, Clara remained ignorant of the affect this whole ordeal had had on him. Only he knew that the breath still coming slightly short had nothing to do with all the running.

“So, they seemed to be working just fine,” Clara commented as she programed the coordinates back to her flat.

“They’re, ah, still running slow. I’ll finish fixing them up after I’ve dropped you at home.” He withdrew the glasses and set them on the part of the console he sometimes used as a workspace. Where had he left that tool kit?

“Could I help?”

“No,” he replied a little too forcibly, bending to check under the console. Nope, not there…

“Oh, come on, let me have a look. Not like I haven’t leant a hand with this stuff before. Last time, you even said thank you,” she teased.

“I did not.”

“Well, you said I could have done worse. Which from you is nearly a compliment.” She rounded on him, crouching down to where he was rooting through shelf space. “I want to learn.”

Could he show her how to fix them without revealing what was wrong? Perhaps. “Fine, just…

Quick as a flash, Clara had darted up and nabbed them. Before he could even react with the adequate amount of horror, they were perched on her upturned nose and she was staring straight at him.

“…don’t put them on,” he finished, needlessly.

Her mouth fell open. The Doctor froze, fighting a ridiculous urge to cover his own dangly bits with both hands. He had no sense of shame about his body, as he knew humans often did, but he didn’t feel it was much worth being on display, either. Still, turnabout was fair play and he’d seen more than his fair share of Clara, despite his attempts to preserve her modesty. He slowly rose to his full height, feeling her eyes on him all the while.

“So,” he cleared his throat, “now you see the problem.”

Clara shook her head, lowering the sunglasses and then pushing them back up. “Why… why would you do this?”

His lips thinned. “I didn’t. It was a side effect of the depolarization back on Charisene.”

She scoffed. “Seriously? A side effect?”

He fidgeted. She still hadn’t removed the sunglasses and was still looking directly at him. He hadn’t a clue what part of his scrawny anatomy could possibly require such scrutiny. “Yes. Please take them off. I’m trying to fix it.”

“So, you ‘ve seen me naked for the last half hour?”

He closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose with two fingers, “I tried not to look.”

“Why not?” she sounded disappointed. Oh, but his impossible girl did have her vanity, didn’t she?

“Because it wasn’t polite.”

Clara snorted, circling him and tilting her head to the side. “Right.”

His hands twitched. “Clara, please take them off,” he pleaded. “I’ll fix them and then we won’t have this problem anymore, yeah?”

Clara pulled them down, peering over the edge, her mouth forming a moue. “Did I look that bad?”

He grit his teeth. “Bad is not the word I’d use, no.”

“Oh?” she moved closer, eyes dancing. “What words would you use?”

He looked away. “Small. Roundish.  Bouncy.”

She looked taken aback at the addition of the last adjective and he immediately regretted it. This was not comfortable territory. He still hadn’t gotten the hang of which adjectives earned him smiles and which earned him slaps. He preferred more of the former.

He tried to change the subject, “Look, if you want to go save more planets, I’ll need to finish fixing those, yeah?”

She sighed, “Oh, fine.” She pulled off the sunglasses and crossed her arms, holding them in one hand. “You’ve never been particularly concerned with nudity, before. Don’t know why it should matter now.”

He snatched them from her, turning his attention to the tiny screws at each side. Easier to work on if he took off the earpieces. “Suppose we have a life or death situation, hm? Can’t afford that kind of distraction…” he muttered. All the most advanced alien tech in the universe and what he really needed most right now was a tiny non-sonic screwdriver.

“All those bodies too much for you?” she giggled. “Oh Lord, that female guard with the,” she made a large, curving arm motion over her chest. “Even I got distracted and I was only seeing them clothed! Don’t know how you kept from staring.”

The Doctor shrugged, “hadn’t noticed.” Ah, there was that screwdriver.

“Well then what was so…” her voice trailed off. She was quiet for a moment so he ventured a glance to his side.

She was very close now, nibbling her lower lip. “I’m a distraction?”

“Frequently. Moreso with no clothes on,” he admitted, unthinking.

“Am I distracting you, now?” the register of her voice seemed to have dropped.

“From fixing these,” he indicated the sunglasses, “yes.”

Clara pursed her lips, a look of sudden determination crossing her face. She brought one hand to the top button of her blouse and popped it open. Then the next button after it, then the next, until the sides fell apart and she shrugged it off to reveal a blue undergarment with white spots all over it. He liked the pattern but his gaze was immediately drawn away from it and to the soft mounds of flesh encased by it.

He found himself mesmerized by the seam where flesh met undergarment until that, too, fell away.

“How about now?” Clara asked, breathlessly.

The Doctor swallowed hard. Was this a test? There weren’t flashcards for this. Something tickled his nose and he sniffed.

Oh.

You didn’t get to be thousands of years old without learning how to recognize a thing or two about human pheromones. Clara was steeped in them. As it was, the scent (well, it wasn’t really a scent so much as a sense) was beginning to have a considerable effect on the parts of him that were distinctly male. No visible reaction (yet) that Clara might have ascertained but he was aware of his pulse jumping, his stomach muscles contracting, and a pleasant sensory experience (something like a tingle, but stronger and warmer) happening below his belt.

He’d have noticed all of this sooner if he hadn’t been so… distracted. Things clicked into place a moment later than he’d have liked.

Clara was aroused and, as it happened, so was he. The two were clearly linked, feeding into one another’s energies and heightening the bodily responsiveness. His tongue darted out to wet his lips and he saw Clara’s eyes follow the path it made.

Hesitantly, he extended a hand, letting it come to rest over her heart. Its solitary beat increased the moment he touched her. His long fingers splayed, the tip of the index nearly at the hollow of her throat and the pinky curving slightly over the top of her breast. Her pupils dilated further than they had been, even in the low light of the console room.

“Doctor…” she murmured, covering his hand with her own and shifting it downward. Her breast fit neatly into his hand, the nipple perking against his palm. He had, covertly, admired the curvature of them, but had not expected her skin to be so soft to the touch. He’d only every held her hands, which were calloused from writing and washing and all those things that roughen skin over time. This was altogether different. Of course, he had felt a breast before. Must have. There had been other women he’d touched while in his other bodies, and many of them had had breasts. But he had never touched Clara so intimately before, never dared close that distance between friend and lover. For, oh, so many reasons. Fear, chief among them. Of letting go, of losing her, of having for only a moment what he might miss for an eternity, after.

None of that seemed to matter as she leaned into his touch, making a gentle sound of encouragement as he massaged the flesh in his hand.

A question in her eyes, she reached for the top button of his shirt. He felt a tremor pass through him, a wave of need he hadn’t felt in… centuries. He nodded his assent and she had his chest bared in seconds. There couldn’t have been much to see, a sparse thatch of silver hair over a lean form, ribs nearly visible below the thin skin. But Clara seemed to appreciate the sight, nonetheless, her mouth falling softly open and eyes half-lidded. He reluctantly removed his hand from her so they might dispose him of shirt and jacket.

“Can we take off the rest?” she asked, smiling that smile that had always made his knees go a bit watery.

“Don’t see why not,” he answered, his voice rough, even to his own ears. Modesty had never become them after all.

She slid down her tights and skirt as he unbuckled his belt, letting his trousers fall to his ankles. He was now very erect, straining against his pants. This did not escape Clara’s notice, her eyes lingering hungrily on the appendage before raking up his slender form. She hooked both thumbs into the waistband of her knickers (also blue cotton but with no dots, the material cut high over her legs and low on her hips). She pulled them down until they were at her feet and stepped out of them. His mouth went dry and his palms oddly damp. Physiological reactions that made very little sense in the context of the situation, really. It ought to be the opposite way ‘round, if anything.

Clara squared her shoulders and shot him a challenging look. “Well?”

He took the hint and disposed himself of his pants, as well. A slow smile curved across her face and she licked her lips.

“What…um what would you like to do, now?” His hearts were hammering a syncopated staccato against his sternum. It was uncomfortable and exciting all at once. His fingertips itched to return to her soft skin.

She gave him a fond, indulgent look, head tilted to one side. “We don’t have to do anything, Doctor. What do you want?”

It was a question he hadn’t been expecting. He’d thought that Clara would take the lead, as she often did. If he was honest with himself, he very much enjoyed letting her do so. He took a deep breath, letting the oxygen slowly fill his lungs. What did he want?

Her, of course.

He wanted all of Clara Oswald, in any capacity he could be allowed. He wanted her smiles and her laughter, her clever wit, and even her tears. He wanted her tomorrows and her yesterdays and every single moment she’d grant him in between. And right now, more than anything, he wanted to taste her. Her arousal hung heavy and musky in the air and he wanted it to coat his tongue, to swallow every drop. He wanted to know the sounds of her pleasure.

“You,” he admitted at last, closing the distance between them. “If… that’s what you want.”

Her ever-expanding eyes grew round as discs, the velvety brown all but blotted out by pupil. Without a word, her body was suddenly flush against him, arms encircling his shoulders. One hand buried itself in his hair, urging him forward. He bent toward her, running his hands the length of her spine to gather her close. Her lips found his, soft, warm, and pliant.

“Yes,” she breathed the word as they pulled apart briefly only to press together again.

The crush of her breasts against the plane of his chest was delicious and he backed her against the nearest wall, chasing that sensation. Her back arched, her legs beginning to shake from staying on her toes. Realizing the mechanics of this must be a challenge to her, he grasped her buttocks with both hands and hoisted her up.

Her legs wrapped automatically around his hips, bringing her core into direct contact with that part of him that was aching the most. Clara gasped and the Doctor bit back a phrase that he would usually consider inappropriate, although if there was ever an opportunity for such language…

He lost the train of that thought as Clara’s teeth sunk into his neck. She lathed the spot with her tongue, giggling at the way his hands flexed against her. She peppered his neck and shoulders with biting kisses and flicks of her tongue as he ground his hips against hers. Her center was molten and dripping against him and he realized how badly he’d wanted this from the moment he’d occupied this body. He’d tried so very hard to keep her at arm’s length. This body didn’t like to be touched by anyone but Clara. Oh, but it had always liked being touched _by_ Clara just a little too much for comfort.

Now that he had finally allowed them this, there might be no turning back. But now was not the time to dwell on that. He captured her mouth again, needy and desperate. Steadying her back to the wall, he removed one hand from her thigh to bring it around to the apex of her legs. As his fingertips found that secret bundle of nerves, Clara broke their kiss to inhale sharply. He took the opportunity to plant open mouthed kisses down the column of her neck and across her chest.

“Please,” she whimpered, one of her hands coming between them to stroke his hardness. Her fist glided easily down his length, coated as it was in her slickness. The Doctor moaned into her shoulder, nodding his agreement.

Enough teasing. Enough waiting.

He lifted her with both hands at her waist and she aligned his sex with hers. Their eyes locked as he slid her slowly into place, sinking inch by inch into her wet heat. Clara swore aloud and for once the Tardis didn’t censor it.

He got the distinct impression she was enjoying the show, saucy little minx that she was.

Sensation radiated down his legs and up his spine, centering on where he was joined with Clara. He might have stayed in place for hours, just savoring the feeling of being within her, but Clara rolled her hips impatiently. He grinned and snapped his hips, causing her to buck and cry out.

“Yes,” she repeated, enthusiastically.

Taking that as his cue, he pulled back and drove upward into her again and again, letting the natural rhythms of their bodies take over. He felt her inner muscles gripping him, fluttering and clenching. His lips found purchase on her neck, her jaw, her shoulder. Her thighs were shaking and her breath coming hard. His senses were filled with nothing but Clara and she was glorious.  As she shuddered through her climax, he felt that knot in his belly unfurling. Barely aware of anything but sheer blinding need, he thrust himself deep. A feral growl he barely recognized as coming from his own throat filled the room and pulsing, light-headed pleasure washed over him.

The Doctor turned them to slump to the floor, slipping from within her and immediately mourning the loss. Her hand came to his cheek, the thumb stroking his jaw. He captured the hand and kissed its palm. She made a sleepy, sated little noise, leaning in to touch her lips gently to his, then shifted so she was cradled in his lap. She settled back with her head against his shoulder, his back against the wall and both arms wrapped around her. He listened to her breathing regulate and allowed himself a selfish, thoughtless moment of just holding her close.


End file.
